But Brooklyn is stifling a laugh. She smiles wide and says, “I’m used to library puns, it’s fine.”
I give her a nod, an I see what you did there, and then admit, “Well, maybe I’m just a little jealous because I wish I’d tried that pickup line.”
“Oh yeah?” she says, an eyebrow raised. “You want to pick me up?”
“Maybe,” I say. “Would it have worked.”
“No,” she says. “I don’t like lines.” Then she quirks her lips into a smile and adds, “But a sincere invitation might work.”
“Well, in that case, Brooklyn Hart, I would love to take you out on a date,” I say, barely believing that we’ve gone from meeting about half an hour ago to this. I never move this fast—and with the outreach center, I rarely have time to even think of women. But this one is different—I knew that from the moment I saw her. “How about tonight?”
3
Brooklyn
“Tonight?”
My heart sinks, because the Casablanca screening is tonight, and the carnival. And I already promised Cassidy and Nora a girls’ night. On the other hand…
I can’t imagine Cassidy would be particularly happy with me if she found out I turned down a date with a guy like Prescott. She’s been all about fate and soulmates and happy ever after since she found Chuck, and she keeps telling Nora and me that it’ll happen for us too.
When we least expect it.
“Okay,” I tell Prescott. “But only if you don’t mind making it kind of a group thing.”
Prescott arches an eyebrow and I laugh.
“Not like that!” I say, then explain, “I promised my two best friends I’d go to the movies and then the street festival tonight. Do you want to come with us?”
He smiles. “What’s playing?”
“Casablanca.”
His smile widens. “Of all the gin joints in all the world… I love that movie. Used to watch it with my mom whenever I got sick and had to stay home from school.”
“So it’s a date?” I ask, butterflies taking flight in my belly. I’m also hoping that I haven’t misjudged and Cassidy and Nora won’t be mad.
But right now, as Prescott says yes, I can’t bring myself to care. There’s just something about him that makes it impossible to turn down the chance to get a little closer.
We exchange phone numbers and I give him my address, and he says he’ll pick me up at six-thirty. I walk out of the teen outreach center on a few inches of air, and immediately group text my besties. This news won’t even wait until I drive back to the library.
Getting ready for a night out sure feels different without Cassidy as my roommate. We used to make a whole event out of primping and wardrobe selection—her in the vintage dresses she prefers and me in slinky little numbers that hug my curves.
Tonight, I’m flying solo.
I’m standing at the bathroom mirror, applying mascara and pumping dance music into the apartment to try and recreate some of that old energy, but it mostly just feels sad. I’ve never lived alone before, and I’m not a fan. I loved living in the Baker house after my parents died, feeling like a part of a big, loving family. I loved having my best friend around 24/7. I even loved the poorly insulated trailer that I grew up in with my mom and dad, because it felt like home.
This place just feels temporary and empty now that Cassidy is gone.
Luckily, it doesn’t stay that way for long. I’m mid-swipe when the doorbell rings, and very nearly drag a messy black line of mascara across my cheek. Crisis averted, I go to the door to let Cassidy and Nora in.
“Hey,” I say over the music, “come in. I’m almost ready.”
“Ugh, what is this noise?” Nora asks. She goes over to my phone to swap out my dance music for classic rock, and I just shake my head.
“You have your dad’s taste in music.”
“Yup, and proud of it,” she says as a Rolling Stones song comes on. “Anyway, I can’t help myself—I’ve had ‘Start Me Up’ stuck in my head for days. I think I will forever associate that song with drywall.”
“Huh?” I ask. Cassidy doesn’t look nearly as perplexed as I am, and I think I must have missed something. “Drywall?”
“For the renovation?” Nora says. “Dad and I were hanging that heavy stuff all day on my day off. Times like these, I wish he’d had a son or two.”
Cassidy chuckles, but I’m still confused. “Where were you hanging drywall?”
“At the house,” she says. “Didn’t Mom and Dad tell you about the renovations they’ve been planning?”
Welp, now I just feel like I’ve been kicked in the shins because no, they haven’t. Martha and Cory Baker let me live with them from fifteen to eighteen, and I was over at their house so often before and since that they feel like my second set of parents… but they’re still Martha and Cory to me, not Mom and Dad. And apparently they feel the same, because this is the first I’m hearing about renovations.
I put on a brave face and say, “Oh? What are they changing?”
“Well, for starters, they’re replacing all that old, cracked plaster in the upstairs bedrooms,” Nora says, then makes a big show of flexing her biceps. “I’m telling you, I’m gonna be both an expert carpenter and totally ripped by the end.”
“Umm, cool,” I say, trying not to let the hurt creep into my voice. It’s not a big deal, I tell myself. Just a little updating. But the truth is, that house—and the Bakers—means as much to me as it does to Nora and Cassidy, and their younger sisters. “Anyway, can you help me pick something out to wear? I can’t decide if I should go with my LBD or something more casual, more festival-appropriate.”
“Uh, none of the above,” Cassidy says. With a flourish, she produces a garment bag that I hadn’t noticed was draped over her shoulder.
